


The Robin and the Sparrow

by Fenchurch87



Series: Tales of Kirkwall (and Beyond) [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Divergence, Canon Divergent Hawke Family, Childhood, Gen, Hawke Family (Dragon Age) Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 05:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18382202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fenchurch87/pseuds/Fenchurch87
Summary: An encounter with an injured bird changes young Erik Hawke's life forever. Originally written in response to a writing prompt on /r/dragonage.





	The Robin and the Sparrow

Erik ran through the woods after Marian, hair streaming behind him while the basket he carried banged against his legs.

“Come on!” his cousin called, briefly turning to look back at him. “You don't want me to get all the best blackberries, do you?”

Erik laughed and ran faster, until his legs grew tired and his chest started to hurt. He couldn't win, he knew. Marian would pick all the blackberries, and there would be none left by the time he got there.

Only, Marian was slowing down, first to a jog, and then to a relaxed amble that was barely faster than walking pace. Erik felt the beginnings of a smile as he ran past her. He was going to do it! He was going to win! He reached the blackberry bush first, and shouted in triumph.

“You beat me!” Marian approached slowly, breathing hard and clutching a hand to her side. “Well done, Sparrow,” she added.

Erik grinned at her. It was strange, but he sometimes felt closer to Marian than his own brother and sister. She was kind, unlike Ingrid, and she didn't try to stop him having fun, unlike Leif. And she had red hair, just like him.

“Are you ready to pick some blackberries?” Marian asked.

“Yes!” he replied eagerly. Today was going to be a good day, he could feel it.

They stayed out all afternoon, filling their baskets until the blackberry patch was bare. Marian looked up at the sky, where the sun was just beginning to set.

“We should head back,” she said. “Mother will be wondering where we've got to.”

Erik nodded and picked up his basket. They retraced their steps through the woods, walking this time, so they didn't lose any blackberries. They were about halfway home when they noticed the sound.

It started as a high pitched piping noise, barely loud enough to hear. But as they continued walking, it gradually turned into an unhappy, insistent cheeping.

“It sounds like a bird.” Erik looked up at his cousin, who was frowning as she listened. “Where do you think it's coming from?”

“I'm not sure– Hold on.” Marian placed a finger to her lips. “Over there,” she decided, pointing at a nearby tree.

They walked towards the tree, where they found a small bird with brown and red feathers.

“It's a robin,” Erik said. “And it's hurt, look!” The bird sat on the ground, not moving, one of its wings flopping uselessly in the dirt.

“Poor thing,” Marian murmured. And then she did something strange. She placed her hand on the bird's injured wing and stared down at it, her brow furrowing in concentration. “I can't do it,” she muttered. “Why can't I do it?” But then her face brightened. “I know. We'll take it home to Father. He'll know what to do.”

Erik smiled. Marian's father – his Uncle Malcolm – knew everything, or so it seemed. If anyone could help the bird, he could.

Marian took off her cloak and wrapped it around the bird. Erik picked up the small bundle as carefully as he could, while Marian took the two baskets.

Aunt Leandra greeted them with a smile when they reached the house. “Look how many blackberries you've found!” she exclaimed. “It looks like I'll be able to make two pies! What have you got there, Erik?” she added.

“We found an injured bird in the woods,” he replied. “Is Uncle Malcolm here? We thought he might be able to help.”

“I'm sure he can. He's out in the garden with your father at the moment, chopping wood. But he should be finished soon. Why don't you wait here?”

Erik nodded, and followed his aunt and cousin into the house. Bethany smiled at him from where she stood at the kitchen table, rolling out pastry. Leif sat curled up in a chair, a book in his lap and Vlad, Father's mabari, on the floor beside him. Erik could hear shouts and laughter from outside, as well as the rhythmic thud of the axe. Ingrid and Carver must be out there too, probably playing with their toy swords again.

Aunt Leandra filled an old box with straw, and Erik very gently put the bird down into it.

“Don't worry, little robin,” he whispered, stroking the soft, downy feathers on the bird's back. “Uncle Malcolm will help you. He can do anything.” He looked down at its broken wing, and sighed. He wished there was something he could do.

Wait. If he tilted his head to the side and looked at the wing _just so_... It was almost as if he could _see_ the tiny bones. He could see the bone that didn't quite line up right, and the space where it was supposed to be. Slowly, very slowly, he reached out to touch the wing. A soft blue glow surrounded his fingertips, and he gasped. Carefully, so carefully, he took hold of the bone and moved it back into place.

The blue glow winked out, and he stared at his hand in wonder. What had he just done? The bird cheeped happily, puffed up its feathers, and flew out of the open window.

“Marian?” he called.

“What's wrong, Sparrow?” Marian appeared beside him and looked from the empty box to his face, and back again. “What happened?”

He told her everything, and watched as her expression grew more and more worried with every word.

“I'll go and get Father,” she said, and ran outside.

Uncle Malcolm hurried into the house, with Father just a step behind him. They looked exactly alike, except his uncle had a few more lines on his face and a little more grey than red in his hair. Both men sat down opposite him and looked at him with identical green eyes. Marian and Leif had those eyes too.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” Uncle Malcolm said.

He told his story again, a little more haltingly this time. Was he in trouble? He hadn't meant to do anything wrong. He had just wanted to help!

A silence fell over the room as he stopped talking. Father broke it first.

“Malcolm?” he said. “Is this–?”

Uncle Malcolm nodded. “Yes.”

“Maker help us,” Father muttered, scrubbing a hand across his eyes.

Uncle Malcolm laid a hand on Father's shoulder. “It will be alright, Magnus. He can join Marian and Bethany's lessons.”

“Yes. Of course.” Father sat up a little straighter. “Thank you.”

“It's the least I can do.” Uncle Malcolm gave Father's shoulder one final squeeze, and then turned back to Erik. “Do you know what you did?”

Erik shook his head.

“You have magic, Erik. And you used it to heal the bird.”

“Magic?” Erik felt his lip start to tremble. “That's a bad thing, isn't it?”

Uncle Malcolm frowned. “You've been listening to the Revered Mother, haven't you? No, Sparrow. Magic doesn't make a person bad. Not on its own. Bad people use it for bad things, but you can also use it for good things. Like what you did with the bird. Do you understand?”

Erik nodded. He thought he understood.

“I have magic too,” Uncle Malcolm continued. “And so do Marian and Bethany. Magic can be dangerous if you don't use it properly, but I will teach you how to be safe. And how to use it for good things. But you have to keep it a secret. Most people are afraid of magic, and some people might try to hurt us if they find out that any of us have it.”

“I won't tell anyone, Uncle,” Erik promised.

“Good.” Uncle Malcolm smiled and ruffled his hair. “I'll give you your first lesson tomorrow.”

The rest of the evening passed perfectly normally, but Erik felt that something had changed. Everyone seemed to be looking at him slightly differently, as if he were something more than what he had been before. Perhaps he was. He remembered how he felt when he healed the bird. Strong, fearless, _alive_.

He couldn't wait to feel it again.

 


End file.
